Read Unbreakable for Free Online

shop a little early. I’d finished all the chores I’d set out to do, and I wanted nothing more than to take a quick nap on the cot in the back room. But before I could lock the door, it swung open and Sophie Wittenbauer sauntered in.
    â€œHello, Hope,” she said loudly. Even her voice was irritating. Nasal, whiny, and impudent all at the same time.
    â€œHello, Sophie,” I said evenly. “I’m about to close. . . .”
    She didn’t appear to hear me, or if she did, she ignored me. “I need this order filled.” She shoved a crumpled dirty sheet of paper across the counter toward me. “My mother says you need to take this fabric back and exchange it for what’s on that list.” She reached into the filthy bag she held in her hands and pulled out a wrinkled piece of fabric, dumpingit in front of me. I immediately recognized it. I’d sold it to Sophie several weeks ago. Or what was left of it anyway. It was now about half the size of the original piece, and it was stained with something that looked like grape juice. This wasn’t the first time Dorcas had tried to return supplies she’d either ruined or had left over and didn’t need. At first I’d refused to refund her money or give her a replacement, but Papa intervened, explaining that the Wittenbauers had little money and needed our help. That might be true, but since their circumstances were caused by their own carelessness and refusal to work, I felt they should reap what they sowed.
    The church had helped them out many times, yet when work was offered or they were asked to help others in our town, the Wittenbauers always had an excuse. Their lack of community spirit wasn’t viewed with much patience. A sense of kinship and willingness to help others was the foundation of life for a Mennonite. Eventually the church’s eagerness to extend charity had dwindled. Except for Papa’s. With his voice ringing in my head, I silently took the ruined cloth and filled Sophie’s order.
    Even though she exasperated me, it was hard not to feel sorry for her. The girl was nearsighted and needed glasses but was forced to wear her father’s castoffs. The large black-framed spectacles looked ridiculous and did nothing to help her appearance. Her lifeless dishwater-blond hair was twisted into a messy bun, and loose strands stuck out from underneath a dirty black prayer covering. Sophie wore only black dresses, and it seemed as if she only owned one. It was usually soiled and always wrinkled.
    Yet underneath her messy exterior, I recognized a distinctbeauty that had little chance of being noticed. Her large amber eyes appeared almost golden in the light and were framed by thick, dark lashes. Her full lips and cheeks were naturally rosy. Since her overall demeanor didn’t convey a sense of good health, the flawlessness of her skin and the color in her cheeks were surprising. I couldn’t help but wonder what Sophie would look like if she cleaned up, got glasses that fit her, and wore a light-colored dress.
    Of course, saying something to her about her looks was out of the question. Sophie wasn’t the kind of person who welcomed personal comments or even attempts at kindness. Somehow she managed to look pitiful and still come across as proud and independent. I couldn’t figure out how she managed it, but every time I started to feel sorry for her, as I did now, she’d do something to infuriate me. Today was no different.
    â€œHave you seen Jonathon Wiese around anywhere?” she asked, her voice like fingernails on a chalkboard.
    I shrugged as I handed her the brand-new fabric and threads. “I saw him earlier, but I have no idea where he is now. Sorry.” I had no intention of telling her about my encounter on the road. In a town the size of Kingdom she’d find out about it soon enough. She’d probably be sorry the driver of the red truck had missed his